


Sharp

by Black_Crystal_Dragon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arguing, Bickering, Declarations Of Love, Established Relationship, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-10
Updated: 2008-10-10
Packaged: 2019-04-25 04:36:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14371050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Crystal_Dragon/pseuds/Black_Crystal_Dragon
Summary: In the middle of an argument, Arthur reveals something he never expected to.





	Sharp

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever Merlin fic. :)
> 
> Archived to AO3 19 April 2018.

For a man normally so sharp with his retorts, Merlin was strangely quiet following Arthur’s outburst. Lost for words, Arthur supposed. Well; so was he, for that matter.  
  
He hadn’t intended to say it in anger. Then again, he hadn’t intended to say it at all, even if this – whatever _this_ was – went on for thirty years. Now there was a thought: he and Merlin, advancing on old age and still putting up with one another. He couldn’t help a laugh at that. His sudden amusement seemed to snap Merlin out of his shocked silence.  
  
“Oh, so that’s it – I might have known,” Merlin said, suddenly and unexpectedly defensive. Arthur was surprised; only moments ago, he had been the one on the defensive. It was the other man’s verbal attack on him that had dragged the words out of him in the first place. Merlin huffed a short, humourless chuckle. “Let’s have a laugh at Merlin’s expense; he’s only a servant –”  
  
“No – Merlin, listen –” Arthur began, reaching out for him. The young man – and he looked even younger, now he was upset – flinched away from his touch.  
  
“I’d better go and polish your armour,” he said. Arthur knew better than to take it as anything other than an excuse to get away. As Merlin turned to go, Arthur grabbed his wrist. He tried to twist away, but Arthur had the upper hand physically; years of combat training had given him a grip of iron that his servant had no hope of breaking.  
  
“Forget the armour,” the prince ordered, ignoring the fact that Merlin was still trying valiantly to escape.  
  
“You have a bout with Sir Yvain first thing tomorrow. You can’t fight him in dusty armour,” Merlin reminded him, staring fixedly at the floor. The words were mundane, but Merlin’s tone betrayed his anger at what he thought was hurtful and now inescapable teasing. By physically preventing him from leaving, Arthur appeared to have only made things worse, instead of stopping him for long enough to make them better.  
  
“I don’t care about the armour, Merlin!” Arthur told him firmly, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him slightly. Why couldn’t Merlin just listen; yes, once he had been a bully who would have done what Merlin was accusing him of – but he had grown out of such small cruelties. Surely Merlin knew that; he had, after all, been instrumental in the change. With a sigh, Arthur relaxed his grip on Merlin’s wrist and gently took hold of his chin instead, forcing him to raise his head. “I was not laughing because I was making fun of you.”  
  
Merlin’s eyes were still downcast. He looked far from convinced. Arthur sighed again, sliding his thumb up to brush across Merlin’s lip. He twitched his face away, an irritable scowl flickering across his face for a moment.  
  
“Can I go now?” he asked curtly. Arthur released him with a frustrated growl, turning away and pacing towards the window. He leant both palms on the sill and closed his eyes, willing his temper to ebb.  
  
“I wasn’t making fun of you. I meant what I said,” he said quietly, not turning even though he was afraid he was addressing an empty room. When he chose to be, Merlin could be quieter than a cat, and more than once Arthur had turned to find him gone although he had heard neither his footsteps nor the door. “I was laughing at the thought that we’ll probably still be bickering when we’re old and grey, not at your reaction to what I said.”  
  
There was silence for so long that Arthur was sure his words had been for nothing, addressed only to the air. He dropped his chin onto his chest.  
  
“Oh, Merlin,” he breathed, not sure whether he was frustrated or saddened. Then slim hands slid onto his waist from behind, and he felt warm breath against the back of his neck. He almost always forgot that Merlin – despite being lean and almost weedy – was not short. Far from it, he equalled the prince in height, and Arthur sometimes wondered if he would be taller if he didn’t slouch. Merlin took a step closer, fitting his body against the curve of Arthur’s back and letting his arms loosely encircle the Prince.  
  
“Am I forgiven?” Arthur asked tentatively as Merlin pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck. When he received no reply, Arthur twisted in Merlin’s embrace, trying to see the other man’s expression. “Merlin! Answer me!”  
  
“No,” Merlin replied, his lips brushing the junction of Arthur’s neck and shoulder as he spoke, and sending a shiver across his skin. Arthur wasn’t sure entirely whether Merlin had been answering his question or responding to his order, although he suspected that ‘no’ was probably his reply to both. Reluctantly, he took Merlin’s clasped hands in his own and pulled them apart, giving him a little more room to turn. The other young man started to take a step back, but Arthur caught him at the hips and dragged him closer.  
  
“Merlin …” he said, in his best Royal tone. It was one he knew Merlin did not particularly care for, and which never failed to bring an irreverent smile to the other young man’s face. Sure enough, a moment later Merlin’s lips twitched upwards despite his best attempts to remain serious. He glanced up at Arthur, finally letting the smile spread.  
  
“All right. Forgiven,” he admitted grudgingly, but when Arthur moved in for a victorious kiss he pushed him away. “On one condition.”  
  
“Condition?” Arthur scoffed, placing his hands on his hips and staring at Merlin in amusement. “I’m a prince! I don’t _do_ conditions –”  
  
“Say it again,” Merlin insisted, folding his arms. Arthur allowed himself a self-assured chuckle as he wormed his arms back around Merlin and pulled him against his chest. Merlin, however, was having none of it. Arthur bent to kiss him, and was met by Merlin’s cheek rather than his lips. “Say it.”  
  
Merlin’s folded arms remained a barrier between them. Arthur sighed and dropped his forehead onto Merlin’s shoulder.  
  
“Oh, come on, Merlin,” he wheedled. He hated it when Merlin became stubborn; neither of them were particularly good at backing down, and so when Arthur’s servant stood up to him it usually resulted in a ferocious stalemate that could last for days.  
  
“Say it! It’s just words! What are you afraid of?”  
  
That was a good question. Unfortunately, it was one Arthur could not answer; he had no idea why he was so reluctant to repeat something he had already said. However, he could not allow Merlin to run away with the idea that he was afraid of something. He raised his head from Merlin’s shoulder to find his glare met with one of Merlin’s own.  
  
“I am not afraid of anything. I won’t have you calling me a coward!” Arthur snapped.  
  
“But this is ridiculous! You’ll quite happily walk into a tournament that could leave you scarred – or even killed – but you can’t even say –”  
  
“I love you!” Arthur hissed, cutting Merlin off before his tirade attracted someone’s attention. Merlin stared at him, then opened his mouth again. Arthur, however, carried on speaking without giving him a chance to interrupt. “There. I’ve said it; I’m forgiven. Now, _shut up_ , will you? You’ll have the whole castle in here demanding an explanation!”  
  
With that, Arthur let go of Merlin and went over to his bedside cabinet where a book lay open. He picked it up, wanting something to do with his hands, and scanned the pages without reading them. He wasn’t even sure if the book was one of his own, or one Merlin had borrowed from Gaius.  
  
“Do you?” Merlin asked eventually. Arthur looked up from the book, and hoped that his incredulous expression would be a sufficient answer. He wasn’t sure he was capable of speech.  
  
Merlin crossed the room in a few strides, relieving Arthur of his book and tossing it away before threading his fingers into the prince’s hair and pressing their mouths together. As Merlin parted his lips to admit Arthur’s tongue, the prince brought his hands up to Merlin’s hips, his fingers bunching the material of his tunic as they clenched into needy fists. The kiss was long and languid, and when they parted both the prince and his servant were panting.  
  
“Good,” Merlin said, resting his forehead against Arthur’s. Then he smiled, and as Arthur leaned in to kiss him again, he simply repeated against his lips, “Good.”


End file.
